


City Under Siege

by SammyLuka



Series: The Tale Of Anthony Janthony Crowley And His 6000 Years of Pining for Sweet, Angelic Ass [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Aziraphale Messes With His Vessel, Crowley Is Into It, De-Aged Aziraphale, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I don’t mean the kink I mean literally, I don’t wanna say mirror sex because it’s not mirror sex, Implied Sexual Content, It’s mirror play™️, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 23:09:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20397673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SammyLuka/pseuds/SammyLuka
Summary: “As he stepped forward, the wood creaked and the figure whipped around, curls bouncing as they did so. Crowley gaped. Looking into the face of this stranger who wasn’t exactly so strange anymore, he stood stockstill, eyebrows raised. Everything about them was so familiar - the point of their noise, the shape of their lips, their eyes….Oh.Oh. What in thehell?‘Aziraphale?’”(Alternatively, in which Crowley comes home to a particularly interesting experiment of Aziraphale’s).





	City Under Siege

**Author's Note:**

> hi babies just fyi, if you want a better mental image of zira in this fic, i highly recommend you look up an image of michael sheen in the 1997 film ‘wilde’. he’s positively delicious in that one.

“Aziraphale, I’m back! Told you I wouldn’t be long!” Crowley called into an eerily quiet and dark bookshop. He walked into the shop, surveying books and nicknacks to see if anything was out of place. Crowley had stepped out for a few hours to fulfill his own kind of temptation (convincing a teeny bopper working at an ice cream parlor to give him two free cones and finally ask out his co-worker with the nice arms), and had told Aziraphale vaguely what he was doing. Usually when Crowley said he was off to exert his demonic wiles on the willingness of humanity, it meant he was popping off to Geneva for the day to cause traffic or scare some local officials. This time, he’d just wanted an ice cream and had figured he’d surprise Aziraphale with a treat. If Aziraphale was anywhere to be found, that is. 

“Angel?” Crowley called. He was holding the cones in each of his hands and surveying the shop for signs of life. A few candles were lit, but it looked otherwise empty. He wondered if Aziraphale had left. 

Walking further into the shop, Crowley thought he heard rustling coming from the back room. The door was closed, but there was light coming from inside and spilling out onto the floor from the crack underneath it. Crowley raised the tip of his shoe and tapped it against the wood in an attempt to knock. “‘Ziraphale, I’m back and I have ice cream! Open up!” 

Crowley waited a few moments. No response. 

When his patience had run through, he blinked and suddenly the door was opening on its own. Perks of being a supernatural being, he supposed. He walked in and saw there was light coming from a conjoined room further back in the shop, and he walked towards it. The door to this room was slightly ajar, and it sounded like there was humming coming from it. Crowley pushed it open slowly with his foot and stepped inside. He froze when he peered past the doorway. 

This was the room in which Crowley and Aziraphale spent their most private time. Tucked into the back of the shop, it was far from the view of anyone who was to enter, celestial entity or not. There was a velvety couch, a delicately carved wooden table that usually had a bowl of fruit sitting atop it, and an ornately framed mirror that could rival the grandness of the one seen in those Harry Potter films. There was also a wine rack lined with the finest vintages that never seemed to deplete. 

Usually, if Crowley was to find Aziraphale in this room, it meant the angel was asking for something a little more human without actually asking. Crowley had expected to see Aziraphale, maybe sitting on the couch with a glass of wine, or standing in the middle of the room, waiting for him. That was not what he saw. 

There was a lithe figure standing in front of the tall mirror. In the dim glow of candlelight, Crowley could make out a head of curls, bright white and bouncy. He also saw the expanse of pale, youthful back muscles. Whoever this was, their skin radiated innocence and practically glowed, even in the minimal light. They had once been wearing a white-button down, but it was now on the floor, along with a coat and a few other articles of clothing. Crowley couldn’t see their face in the mirror, but he could see that their trousers were unbuttoned and hanging low on their hips. 

Crowley took a gentle step into the room. He’d forgotten about the ice cream cones, so they had disappeared from his hands. He instead let his arms fall against his sides, too busy studying the oddly familiar yet unfamiliar being in front of him.

As he stepped forward, the wood creaked and the figure whipped around, curls bouncing as they did so. Crowley gaped. Looking into the face of this stranger who wasn’t exactly so strange anymore, he stood stockstill, eyebrows raised. Everything about them was so familiar - the point of their noise, the shape of their lips, their eyes….

Oh. _Oh_. What in the _hell?_

“_Aziraphale?_”

Aziraphale chuckled nervously. “Hello, dear. It’s…. Well.... Hello.”

Crowley was staring, or more accurately, gaping. That wasn’t…

“It _is_ me, you know.”

Crowley knew this to be true. No matter what body, what being, what dimension, he’d be able to recognize Aziraphale anywhere. The angel had an aura or whatever you’d like to call it about him that was so utterly _Aziraphale_, no matter where or what he was. It hit Crowley like a slap in the face.

“What… What’s this?” Crowley waved at Aziraphale’s general being, flopping his hand around in the only way of expression he could think up. Aziraphale chuckled. He reached up to brush a loose curl from his face. Crowley followed the movement like a hawk.

“Erm. An experiment, one may call it.” Aziraphale had folded his hands in front of his torso and the gesture was so reminiscent of the Aziraphale that Crowley knew, but combined with this new look, it was incredibly jarring. 

“‘An experiment’? Pray tell, what kind of experiment is this?” Crowley stalked forward so he was but a few feet away from Aziraphale. He started walking around him, looking the angel over from head to toe. There was something predatory in his gaze.

Aziraphale tensed, just slightly. It was the same way he tensed when Crowley gave him a mischievous smile in bed, or put a hand on his knee under the table at a restaurant. It was the kind of tense that happened when you ran an ice cube on hot skin. 

“I haven’t done very much with this body, and I feared that I might not get my chance to figure it out before inconvenient discorporation so… Experimentation.” Aziraphale held his arms out to punctuate his statement. Crowley had now walked back around Aziraphale so he was facing him. He took slow steps forward until he was just a few inches away from his angel. 

“It’s… different.” 

Crowley raised a hand and brought it close to Aziraphale’s face. He gently took some of Aziraphale’s hair and threaded his fingers through it. In his vessel’s youthful state, his hair was a little longer so that it framed his face, but it was still as white as ever. 

“I do hope you don’t mean ‘bad’ different.” Aziraphale’s voice was quieter. He reached his own hands up and took Crowley’s sunglasses off. He delicately folded them and placed them on the table only a footstep or two away from them. 

Crowley looked Aziraphale over again. His eyes focused on the unzipped trousers and bare chest for a few more milliseconds than he had before. “No, not bad. Just… why?”

Aziraphale swallowed. “Well, I thought, ‘Six thousand years in the same body, and I’ve never changed it. Why not try it?’”

“We’ve just... never needed to.” Crowley had a point. Their bodies had served them well enough for the past few millennia, and they’d done a good job at keeping away from photographs and public record so as to avoid suspicion. Well, maybe not a _good_ job, considering the fact that they’d both jumped at the chance to get their portraits done together by Da Vinci, but there have been worse attempts by immortals. Take Keanu Reeves, for instance. Crowley wished he would stop running into that guy. 

“Ah, there lies the misconception, my dear boy,” Aziraphale started. He took Crowley’s hand and directed it so it was lying on the pale skin of his chest. Crowley swallowed. “_Need_ is different from _want_.”

Crowley gave him a look that said ‘You’re mad, but all right’ and looked him over again. He was Aziraphale, and not just in soul. This was Aziraphale’s vessel, but if Aziraphale’s vessel was in its third year of university and owned a cat, maybe. It was Aziraphale’s vessel, but much younger. “Whatever you say, angel.”

Crowley ram his fingertips from Aziraphale’s sternum down his chest and stomach. His touch was featherlight and as tantalizing as ever. Aziraphale waited with bated breath as Crowley spent his time exploring the expanse of his pale, smooth chest. In that moment, Aziraphale’s skin was like nothing Crowley had ever touched. It was so _soft_. He was torn between wanting to lay his head on Aziraphale’s and never get up, or mark that perfect skin with bruises and bite marks ASAP. 

“Crowley?” came Aziraphale’s voice, softer than it had been before. Crowley realized that he’d stopped moving, his fingers splayed just before what could barely be considered a happy trail. Crowley looked up at Aziraphale. He moved his hand away from the angel’s torso and reached up so he could cup his cheek instead. 

“You’re so gorgeous. You’re always so gorgeous. How do you do that?” 

“Stop that,” Aziraphale crooned. He was looking down at the floor, his pale cheeks rosy with a blush. Crowley couldn’t help himself, so he leaned in and kissed Aziraphale. It was a gesture so gentle and sweet that it lifted whatever weight was on Aziraphale’s shoulders. 

His lips were... not softer, but suppler than usual. They were lips that hadn’t withstood very much of anything yet. Crowley snaked his hand to the back of Aziraphale’s head and grabbed a handful of his hair. Aziraphale groaned at the feeling of it and placed his hands on Crowley’s chest, in between their bodies. 

“Crowley.” Aziraphale rested his forehead against Crowley’s. “Dear, will you at least let me put my clothes back on?”

“I’d rather them off.” Crowley took hold of Aziraphale’s cheek once again. He rubbed his thumb over Aziraphale’s cheekbone. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but his smile and pink cheeks sort of killed the effect.

“I’d rather them on, dear boy. I _am_ busy, after all.” Aziraphale gave Crowley a peck on the lips once more, then stepped back.

“Oh, are you?” Crowly followed Aziraphale back to the mirror, where his clothes were still in a pile on the floor. Crowley wondered why he’d taken them off in the first place. Had the angel been… checking himself out? Well, checking his new body out, a less perverted part of his mind supplied. Crowley understood if that was the case, but it was still an enticing thought.

“I _do_ have things to do, Crowley,” Aziraphale professed. He’d picked up his clothes and was shucking on his shirt when Crowley came up behind him and wrapped his arms around the angel’s hips. He ran his hands up Aziraphale’s stomach and chest, this time a little rougher than he had before. Aziraphale started buttoning his shirt from the bottom up, seemingly ignoring Crowley’s advances. “I can’t always be tempted by your insatiable desires.” There was something teasing in Aziraphale’s tone. He turned his head and pressed a kiss against Crowley’s jawline, pressing back against the other.

He was still buttoning his shirt. 

“_My_ insatiable desires. Sure.” As Crowley was talking, Aziraphale stretched his arm up and reached around to cup the back of Crowley’s head. Crowley was watching Aziraphale in the mirror the entire time. The way his body moved was much more fluid in this state. It was the difference between a ballet dancer and a rugby player. Crowley took in the image of Aziraphale in the mirror almost hungrily. He noticed that Aziraphale’s trousers were still undone. “Let’s not forget who _asked_ to be tempted, yeah?”

Crowley’s hand was back on Aziraphale’s torso, but this time it was sliding downwards.

“One of us had to ask, dear.” Aziraphale had turned his head back so that he could watch them in the mirror as well. His eyes followed as Crowley’s hand snaked its way towards the waistband of the angel’s pants.

“Beg, you mean,” Crowley corrected.

“Don’t you make a character of me, you old fool.” Aziraphale’s backside was pressing up against increasingly dangerous territory.

“You say the most incredibly unsexy things,” Crowley faux-moaned in Aziraphale’s ear. Aziraphale huffed and slapped at Crowley’s hand until he pulled it out of equally dangerous territory. He grabbed his vest and pulled his arms through it, then turned to face Crowley. 

“Did you say something about ice cream earlier?” he asked.

Crowley growled and pulled him close by his belt loops. “You’re evil.”

“I thought that was your job, dear.”

___ 

Later, they were both on top of that velvety couch, disrobed and disheveled. Crowley was half-conscious with Aziraphale laying on top of him, their chests pressed together and their breathing almost in tandem. Again, they didn’t have to breathe, but it somehow felt right that they do so after an act so veritably human.

Aziraphale was still in his ‘altered state’, as Crowley had insisted he should be, but it seemed as though it was starting to fade in and out, like he was forgetting that he was supposed to stay like that. Crowley wondered if he was simply growing tired. Aziraphale had a habit of believing that he was supposed to be something just because he’d seen it in films.

“Angel,” Crowley mumbled. “You’re flashing.”

Aziraphale raised his cheek from Crowley’s chest. They locked eyes. “Am I? I didn’t notice.”  
Aziraphale had very beautiful eyes, some more romantic part of Crowley noticed. They were eyes that were familiar to Crowley. As long as Aziraphale kept those eyes, Crowley would be able to choose him out of a thousand angels. 

“I’d like to experiment with your experiment one of these days,” Crowley said. Aziraphale brushed a bit of hair out of his face.

“I thought that was what we just did.” There was innocence in Aziraphale’s tone and Crowley wasn’t sure if it was false or not. Aziraphale had gotten good at being bad. It was probably a product of all the time he spent around Crowley. 

Crowley sighed. “Not what I meant. I’ll tell you another time. I just want to lie here for now.” 

Aziraphale dropped his head back on Crowley’s chest. “All right.”

And they did just that. Crowley lie there with Aziraphale on top of him, stroking the angel’s back in long, soft movements. He pressed his hands over the area where Aziraphale’s wings might’ve been (if they were in the right plane of existence) and Aziraphale _keened_. Crowley let out an astounded chuckle.

“Sensitive much?” he teased.

Aziraphale buried his face in the crook of Crowley’s neck. “I should think you would be the sensitive one.”

“Just go to sleep, angel.”

Aziraphale did just that. Dark eyelashes fluttered over light skin and Aziraphale’s breathing soon became light and even. Crowley held him and resisted the urge to fall into unconsciousness himself. 

They’d definitely be experimenting again.

**Author's Note:**

> go watch wilde it’s an incredible film!!! leave me a comment and i’ll love you forever and ever (and maybe i’ll write a sequel so i can take advantage of how gorgeous young david tennant is. just sayin’)


End file.
